


Safe and Sound

by andwaydownwego



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (Obviously), ACOTAR inspired, Alternate Canon, Bellarke, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, My First Fanfic, Protective Clarke, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andwaydownwego/pseuds/andwaydownwego
Summary: Set after Season 2 and canon divergent from there.Bellamy is blamed for the death of a high ranking official from the Ice Nation. The punishment? Death. Clarke will do anything she can to stop this from happening, no matter the cost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, at the ripe old age of twenty something (thirty something) and years of fanfic reading I've finally bitten the bullet to write my own. I've never written anything before so all comments are very very welcome, especially constructive ones. I've only written the first chapter so far so please let me know if you think it's something worth continuing and I will gladly carry on putting all my Bellarke feels into this.
> 
> This is heavily inspired by A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas. Obviously this does not belong to me, and neither does the 100. Please accept this is a token of my absolute love for both these works!
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's song "Safe and Sound".
> 
> Twitter: @andwaydownwego

  
“I sentence Belomi kom Skaikru to death.”

As soon as the words were out of Lexa’s mouth the room erupted with the deafening sound of twelve clans cheering, fighting, agreeing, disagreeing.

Clarke could see the thin line of Lexa’s lips as they settled into unwavering resolution. She could feel Octavia fall into her, only to be quickly caught by Lincoln, as he pulled her quietly into his arms. She could smell the sweat within the room. She could taste the salt of the tears she didn't even realise were making their steady path down her face. But none of it was real, none of it seemed to register. She couldn’t really hear or see or feel or smell or taste anything. All she knew was that Bellamy, _Bellamy_ , was going to die. And just like Finn, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“No!”

Suddenly, the room fell silent, all listening to the mighty Wanheda as she spoke. She half ran half stumbled into the middle of the room, the crowd parting for her as one, as she fell to her knees in front of Lexa’s throne. “Please. Please. There has to be another way. He didn’t do it and you know it.” She didn't know how she got the words out, her voice breaking as she knelt there, in front of the Commander who had betrayed her, begging for the life of her best friend, her partner, her...

“You know the rules. Blood must..”

“I don’t care!” she shouted, cutting her off. “Your barbaric rules are wrong and injust and I’m not just going to let you murder an innocent man. A **good** man. I just.. I can’t.. Please..” She couldn't continue, her mind empty of the words to make them see, to make them understand. She let her head hang with a cry of anguish that had even the Ice Nation shifting uncomfortably, trying to escape the pain they could hear in her voice.

She took a breath. And another. She steadied her trembling hands. She swallowed past whatever this feeling was taking seat in her throat, and raised her head. She looked into Lexa’s eyes, stood, back held straight, not bothering to wipe her face. “There has to be another way,” her voice strong and clear and demanding.

Titus stepped forward from his position behind the throne, bending to whisper in his Heda’s ear. A crease formed in between Lexa’s eyebrows as she listened to him, confusion in her eyes. “But the Certamen has not been used for decades,” she replied to him. Clarke heard Lincoln’s sharp intake of breath at the words and turned to look at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze.

“What’s a certamen?” she asked, looking at Lexa, but it was the Queen of Azgeda who replied, with a smirk on her face and mockery in her voice. “The Certamen is a way to make things right. _Jus drein jus daun_. That has always been our law. This is a way to pay that blood.” She stalked her way across the room to stand in front of Clarke. “Twelve challenges. One from each nation. He chooses a champion to fight for his life. Win all twelve challenges, and he goes free. Simple.”

“And if one of the challenges is lost?”

Nia’s eyes glistened with unspoken rage as she uttered the words Clarke knew were coming. “Then I kill them both.”

 

*****

 

Clarke sat on the cold stone floor in the corner of the room, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around herself, eyes to the ground. She wasn’t even listening to Octavia arguing with Bellamy through the bars of his cell or Kane, the ever present mediator, trying to keep the peace. All she could hear was Lexa’s words, a broken record spinning round and round. _I sentence Belomi kom Skaikru to death_. She raised her eyes to where he stood. A purple bruise bloomed across his jaw, his bottom lip swollen and stained with deep red blood and his hair curled into his eyes. Her nails bit into her palms leaving tiny crescents, as she balled her hands in an effort to keep from reaching out to brush it away.

 _He sat on his cot, head hanging low. She knelt before him and rested her hands on his knees, slowly, as if she were trying not to frighten away a baby animal. “Bellamy,” she started, but before she could say anymore he lifted his head to look at her, and the look in his eyes stole her words, her thoughts, her breath. She’d seen him sad. She’d seen him cry. She’d seen him rage at the world. She’d seen him dripping with sweat woken by dreams of death and loss. But she’d never seen him like this. So, so.. Broken. She reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, her fingers lingering on his cheek. He swallowed hard. He saw him drop his gaze to her lips and back up to her eyes. She took a breath as her fingers trembled against his skin, and.._ She blinked away the memory _._

“Bellamy, this is the only way. I can do this. Let me do this. My brother, my responsibility.”

“No, no way. O, we’ll figure something out. Something else. Something that doesn’t involve getting you killed.”

“Are you even listening to yourself right now? Do you understand what’s going to happen?” Octavia bit back, incredulous. “They’re going to murder you. Torture you. There is nothing else we can do. This is the only option.”

“Nobody else is dying because of me. I won’t allow it. Someone, talk some sense in to her.”

He looked over to where Clarke sat, knowing that he could count on her to back him up and convince O that this was a bad idea. But his eyes found an empty space. “Clarke?” Something in the tone of his voice had Lincoln, Octavia and Kane turning around. “Oh shit.”

*****


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Reference to thoughts of self harm in this chapter. This will not be a recurring theme throughout the work but wanted to warn anyone who may be triggered by this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, and a big big thank you to anyone who is reading. Please let know if you'd prefer shorter chapters every few days or longer chapters once a week. Or even for me to wait until it's finished.
> 
> Thanks again!

_Clarke sat underneath the canopy of leaves drawing patterns absentmindedly in the dirt with a knife. Being back here at the Dropship was like living in a graveyard, but she deserved it. She deserved to be haunted by the memories of the people she had left behind, the people she had failed, the people she had killed. She knew she should try and hunt, or at the very least go fetch some more water, but she couldn’t find the energy to move. Time passed in the blink of eye. Had it really been 22 days since Mount Weather? 528 hours. 31 680 minutes. How many of those minutes had she sat here on the cold wet ground? How many minutes had she spent looking at the place where they'd buried their friends? How many minutes had she spent staring at the star lit sky, remembering a life time ago when she was just a girl, living in space laughing with her best friend._

_How many minutes had she spent with the slightly rusted steel blade pressed to her wrist, thinking of the lives she had taken under the Mountain? She didn't deserve to live when they couldn't. But she did’t deserve to die either. No, death was too simple a punishment. So here she was. In limbo. Not dead but not alive. Just, existing._

_The noise of leaves crunching underfoot startled her. Please don’t be Bellamy again, she thought, moving to hide inside the scorched metal of her self imposed prison. (Lies, please be Bellamy again.) Please don’t sit out there and talk to me about our friends. (More lies, please sit out there and talk to me about our friends. I need it to remind me of who I am, who we were.) Please don’t tell me you forgive me, you miss me, you need me. (Lies lies lies.)_

_“Hey Clarke, it’s me. Again.” His voice broke through the silence and she closed her eyes in relief. He hasn't given up on me. “Not much to report from Arkadia. Raven’s back on her feet and running circles round Wick, figuratively speaking anyway. O is.. O. Her and Lincoln are disturbingly close. Still working on a way to get the Grounders to let go of the kill order but not really much progress there. Monty’s working on an extra special batch of moonshine for when you’re ready to come home.” A sigh. A pause. She heard a change in his voice, a lightness that could only come from his patented self-assured-blindingly-beautiful-I’m-Bellamy-Blake smile. “I took the rover out again today and made it a whole 2 clicks before stalling. Some might call that improvement. I’ll be ready to teach you in no time.” Another pause. Another sigh._

_“Clarke,” he finally said, “please come back. I.. They need you. Jasper hasn't been sober since we’ve been home. Harper’s barely sleeping ‘cos of nightmares. The council have taken over completely, they won’t let any of us help even though they have no idea what they’re doing. The peace talks with Lexa are going nowhere.” He let out a noise of frustration. Eventually she could hear the sound of rocks hitting the Dropship door. She sat there, eyes shut tightly, hoping to stay hidden from the world. If he found her, if he looked at her, she knew she wouldn't be able to stay away. “I don’t even know why I come here everyday, you could be anywhere by now.”_

_Tap tap tap against the metal door._

_Tap tap tap._

_Tap tap._

_Tap._

_Silence._

_Her breath caught in her chest. Had he gone? Finally, after a world of time had passed, she heard him softly speak. “Please Princess,” his voice breaking on the nickname, “just come home.”_

_Her vision blurred with tears and she opened her mouth to speak. But there were no words. There was nothing she could say that would make what she had done ok. So as the tears rolled down her cheeks, her vision cleared once again. And she stayed silent as he slowly walked away, once again._

  
*****

  
The throne room was buzzing with the hushed whispers of the crowd. Clarke stood before them all, staring straight at their leader with nothing but determination in her eyes.

“Give us the room,” Lexa said quietly.

“That won’t be necessary,” Clarke countered. “There’s nothing for us to discuss.”

“Clarke, this isn’t something to take lightly. There is a reason the Certamen fell out of favour amongst my people. You need to understand that choosing to do this is choosing to die. You **cannot** save him.”

She tried to stop herself from flinching at the words. “Like I said, there’s nothing for us to discuss.” Lexa gave a small nod of the head and looked back at Clarke. What was that in her eyes? Disappointment? Pity? No. Understanding. Approval. “Very well. Bring in the prisoner.”

The doors opened and a guard pushed Bellamy into the room, gagged, hands still bound behind his back. Another hard shove and he landed on his knees beside her. She could hear him trying to speak, the words muffled by the dirty rag, but the sound of her name on his lips painfully clear. _Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him_.

“Belomi kom Skaikru, Clarke has come forward to be your champion. The Certamen will begin at the start of the next lunar cycle. Each week a challenge will be set. Clarke can choose to accept or forfeit. If she forfeits, you both die. If she does not complete the challenge, you both die. If either of you try to escape-“

“Let me guess,” Clarke said dryly. “We both die.” 

Lexa’s gave a small smile despite herself, whilst Bellamy's pleading rumbles grew louder and angrier and harder to ignore.

“You will now take Bellamy’s place as prisoner.” Lexa nodded once at the guards who took Clarke by the arm and led her away. Away from Bellamy. Once again. 

 

*****

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in updating this. My laptop broke and has been out of action. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this instalment, and as always, comments and criticism very welcome!

 

Clarke lay on the threadbare pile of furs in the corner of her cell, fingers tracing the marks she’d made on the stone wall. One for each day of her imprisonment. No company except for the stern faced muted guards. Not a single visitor. Just like in solitary.

 

She’d forced herself to settle into a routine, needing something familiar and predictable to keep her grounded. Wake, eat, push-ups, rest. _Don’t think about failing._ Drink, cardio, eat, rest. _Don’t think about the fact you never got to say goodbye._ Stretch, meditate, go over every word she’d ever heard from Lincoln and Lexa and Anya about the Grounders. _Don’t think about his eyes, his smile, his laugh._ Drink, eat, sleep. ( _Do_ ** _not_** _think about him dying.)_ Repeat.

 

She sat up, startled by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

 

“Hello Clarke.”

 

“Lexa, what a lovely surprise,” Clarke muttered sarcastically. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“The new moon rises tomorrow. You will attend a ceremony here in Polis to herald the start of the Certamen. Your first challenge will be the following day.” Lexa paused and looked away. “I know you’re still angry with me for leaving you at the Mountain. And now for this too. I truly did want peace for us all.”

 

“Peace?” Clarke bit out, rising to her feet. “Do you even know what that looks like? Or is war and torture and bloodshed all you understand? You didn’t even try to find out what happened. You know Bellamy wouldn’t do this.”

 

“Nia’s second was **shot** Clarke. And your own people told us that the bullet came from his gun. This Raven you speak so highly of, do you really think she would have made a mistake, knowing the cost?”

 

“I already told you. He’s being. Set. Up.”

 

Moments passed by as the two leaders stood facing each other. One fair and light, surrounded by the unmistakable air of hope despite the death she was soon sure to face. The other dark and cold, aged beyond her years and burdened by the weight of a thousand impossible decisions already made. Lexa turned to leave, making it halfway before stopping. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so quietly Clarke would have missed it, were it not for the glistening of the tear she could see on her cheek.

 

Lexa slowly made her way back up the stairs leaving Clarke alone. She could hear the faint sound of music drifting down the stairs as she lay on the floor and closed her eyes, trying to shut out memories of dancing and laughter and spinning breathlessly inside strong arms.

 

 

*****

 

 

The day of the new moon started just like any other. Clarke had abandoned the pretence of sleeping a few hours before dawn but lay there, trying to keep her breaths calm and her mind focused. A guard brought her rations for the day and all but threw them on the ground. _Great, it would have to be Reko today of all days._ She’d eavesdropped on the changing of the guard during the early days and learned that he had a brother who was in Ton DC when the Mountain Men fired the missile. _No,_ w _hen I let the missile fall and did nothing to save anyone._

 

Breathe.

 

Eat. Push-ups. Rest. Drink. Car... Wait, not cardio. Someone was coming. Lots of someone's by the sound of it. Titus and an entourage of guards.“Time to leave Wanheda.” 

 

The door to her cell opened and Reko smirked as he grabbed her by the arm, spinning her round and tightly binding her wrists together with rope. He pulled her roughly from her room and up the stairs.

 

“Where are we going?” asked Clarke, the question falling on deaf ears. _Okay, so no small talk then._

 

She was taken to a room high in the tower where she was left with two girls, sisters maybe, dressed in simple robes that did little to hide the marks on their bodies. Scars of torture. Abuse.

 

“Prepare her,” Titus commanded as he closed the door, the clicking of the lock reverberating through the room.

 

Clarke stood unsurely at the entrance to the simple chamber until the taller of the two girls gave her a small reassuring smile. She gently released the ropes around her wrists and took her by the hand. A curtain partitioned the room in two, and behind it lay a steaming hot bath. They stood with their backs turned until she’d peeled off the layers of grimy clothes and stepped into the tub. The water smelled like the lavender Monty had found growing by the outskirts of Arkadia and the familiarity of it made her heart ache, remembering the day he’d proudly made his first bar of soap. She closed her eyes and forced her muscles to relax, one by one, until her mind was empty.

 

The sisters quietly helped her get ready for the ceremony, soap lathering in her hair, soft fingers raking through undoing knot after knot, warm oil spreading over her limbs, taking great care around the rope burns on her wrists. The look of understanding shining in their eyes made Clarke wonder at the scars she had seen on their own skin. “The Mountain Men,” was all the younger one said, in answer to Clarke’s silent question, as she gently squeezed her shoulder in gratitude.

 

She sat on a stool in front of the hearth to the corner of the room wrapped in a towel as they carried on working. Her hair was plaited and twisted until it was circling her head like a crown, just a few strands left to frame her face. A face which was now glistening by the firelight, the iridescent powder shimmering on her cheekbones and a faint blush gracing her cheeks and lips. A simple but elegant white dress was brought to her. The silky fabric gathered at the shoulders, two strips of cloth covering her chest but plunging to meet below her breasts. From there it hung in soft flowing layers to gently skim over her hips and belly, pooling at her feet. She'd never worn anything like this, didn't even know anything like this existed. _This isn’t me. I can’t go into battle like this,_ she thought with a tilt of the head, as she longed for her low simple braid, Henley and pants. 

 

“You look beautiful Wanheda,” the younger girl said shyly.

 

She closed her eyes at the name. “Please. Call me Clarke.”

 

A beat.

 

She opened her eyes and looked at the two people who had shown her the first bit of kindness in days. The three of them, hurt and bruised and just a tiny bit broken by this Earth.Broken, but not defeated. 

 

She held her hand out and took the girl’s arm, examining the skin around a nasty cut on her forearm. “You need to get this looked at. It’s infected and won’t heal properly.”

 

“I’ve.. I’ve been using the poultice the healer gave me,” the girl stammered.

 

“Find one of my people and ask to see Abby. Tell her your story, you can trust her. She’ll help you.”

 

The moment was broken by a curt knock on the door. “It’s time.”

 

She was escorted through a maze of corridors and staircases until they came to a halt outside a pair of large wooden doors. Right on cue they silently opened. Titus gestured to Clarke to enter, and as she did she couldn't help the small puff of air that escaped her throat at the beauty within. The somber shadowy room was filled with the light of a thousand candles. Pure ivory flowers climbed the walls, the delicate petals resting on stone. The most exquisite sheer fabric hung in loose sheets by the windows, framing the inky night sky and billowing slightly in the breeze. Thick warm furs draped over the hard wooden benches that lined the room, creating a path for her walk down. The entire room was a portrait of contradiction; light and dark, soft and hard, gentle and strong.

 

And there, at the end of the aisle, stood Bellamy. Dressed entirely in jet black clothing. The night to her day, the Hades to her Persephone. The Rebel and his Princess. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts a tad depressing, mostly because on rewatch of Season 2 finale, that's how envisioned Clarke to be in the wake of Mount Weather. 
> 
> Also, language!

_26 days after Mount Weather_

Clarke lay on the grass, her body saturated with guilt and loneliness. Her heart felt like lead in her chest, pulling her to the ground. She could no longer hold her head up high, no longer stop her feet from dragging on the floor. She couldn’t even cry anymore. She was just.. Broken.

She’d moved on from the Dropship two days ago. It was too much of a risk staying there, she was too weak. She knew the next time Bellamy came looking for her she’d crumble. She hadn’t even realised how much she needed him. She thought she did, but she didn't. Not really. Not after he saved her from Dax at the bunker. Not after she’d killed Finn. Not after she’d sent him to the Mountain knowing she might never see him again. Not even when he’d laid his warm hand on top of hers before she could pull that fucking lever, one simple gesture telling her she wasn’t alone, that he believed in her, that together they could do anything. No, not even then. But that first night after she’d left Camp Jaha, as she sat in deafening, all consuming silence, as the first tears fell onto her cheeks, that’s when she knew.

She needed him.

  
*****

  
_30 days after Mount Weather_

Come on Clarke, you can do this. Inhale, exhale. You don’t even have to do anything. Your brain is literally wired to do it for you. You don’t even have to try.  
  
_Then why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like there’s a fifty ton weight on my chest, that there’s razor blades filling my bronchi, cutting me open with every breath?_ Her own voice raged in her mind, banging off the sides of her skull, her head pounding. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something. To watch something fracture and shatter like she had.

No, it was too hard. She was too tired. Too weary. Too bone achingly exhausted.

She thought of her Dad. Wells. Finn. The 100. The people she had tried and failed to protect. She had to do this. She could do this. She could go on. She could inhale and exhale, she could put one front in front of the other, she could drink and eat and survive. And maybe one day she’d be ready. To go back to them. To make amends.

To live.

  
*****

  
_42 days after Mount Weather_

She sat by the river, sipping rainwater from her flask, waiting for her makeshift net to catch something to eat. She wondered what was happening back at Camp Ja.. No, Arkadia. Were Raven and Wick still together, was Jasper was ok, was he healing, had Monty got sucked into farming instead of joining the engineers where he belonged? Had her Mom and Kane managed to make any progress with the Commander. As much as it pained her to admit it, they needed Lexa’s help. They wouldn’t survive the harsh winter without it. Then there were the vague whispers of unrest she'd heard of amongst the twelve clans; the Ice Nation unhappy with upholding the treaty now the Mountain Men were gone. Not that she trusted Lexa, but SkaiKru wouldn't make it through a full on war without a few of the Grounders on their side. 

She wondered whether Bellamy was an official member of the Guard yet.

If they’d let him keep his gun.

If he’d cut his hair.

If he’d had that drink yet.

If he’d forgiven her for sending him to be the inside man, for Ton DC. _For leaving_.

The sound of voices nearby startled her from her thoughts. _Careless_ , she thought to herself as she hurried to take cover between the trees. _You should have heard them before they got this close_. The sound carried easily through the air, and it didn't take long for Clarke to realise who it was. And just like that she was frozen, feet rooted to the ground, eyes open and unblinking.

“Come on guys, live a little!”

“I think you’re living enough for all of us right now,” Monty replied, voice full of fondness with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe we should just head back.”

“Come on.. Octavia? Surely I can count on you to have a little fun?”

“Remember what happened the last time I took an impromptu dip in the water? Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re both full of shit.” Clarke heard the sound of someone draining a flask. “Didn’t they die to save us all? Isn’t that why you killed Maya, so we could live? So live then!” Clarke could hear the way his words slurred together, the alcohol in his system loosening his lips and tongue.

“That’s enough Jasper,” Octavia said, moving closer to Monty.

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Get in the water. Get. In. The water.”

Nobody moved. Octavia stood, body slightly angled in front of Monty, as Jasper started toward them.

“I said, GET IN THE WATER!” The words were screamed out. The empty flask bounced against a rock, the sound echoing through the open space around the river. He went to shove Monty but Octavia stood her ground and grabbed him by the arm before he could make contact.

“Come on Jasper. You really wanna do this?”

“Yeah I wanna do this.”

Clarke looked at her trembling hands and tried to breathe. Inhale, exhale. _No_ , she thought, shaking her head. _This is my fault. I did this. I’m the one who hurt him._ Her breaths started coming faster, her fingertips tingled, her lips were numb. Had they gone? She couldn’t hear them anymore. What was that ringing noise? It was only when her vision started to tunnel that she realised she was on the verge of blacking out. She lay down on her side and curled into a ball, repeating the all too familiar words. _I had to save them. My people, my responsibility. I had to save them. I had to save them. I had to save them._

She had no idea how much time had passed, she’d lost hours before, caught up in waves of anxiety. At last, when she could finally feel the ground beneath her body and the rain drops falling on her skin, she sat up and listened for her friends. What she heard had her quickly snapping back into focus.

“I don’t know what to do. There’s too much blood!” Octavia cried. “I didn't mean to.. I wasn't.. Oh god, wake up!”

Clarke had half a second to decide. Stay or go.

Her feet started to move before her mind could catch up.

“What happened?” she asked, as she took in the scene before her. Octavia knelt down next to Jasper holding her hands to his head, blood seeping through her fingers. Monty was close by, rifling through his backpack. At her words they both looked up in surprise. They'd have looked less shocked if they'd seen a ghost. _Maybe that's all I am to them now._

“Clarke? Oh my god! What are..”

She cut Monty off before he could carry on. “What happened?” She ran over to Jasper.

“I was just trying to get him to stop. I pushed him and he just fell. I didn't mean.. I..” Octavia broke off as Clarke pushed past her to see what she could do. In her mind she heard her Mom. _Don’t ever let emotion get in the way of your work. Forgot who it is in front of you. Focus on the pattern of symptoms, the injuries, what needs to be fixed. Be methodical._

Right. Focus, methodical. Got it.

A: airway patent. Check.

B: shallow breathing, too fast, but lips still pink. She pulled a knife from her boot and cut open his shirt. The left side of his chest was rising and falling, but the right stayed almost still. She felt along the ribs. 4, 5 and 6 broken. _Shit_. She felt his trachea. Deviated to the left. _Shit shit shit._

“Monty, what have you got in that bag?”

“Errr, food, water, some herbs. Oh, and a radio!”

“Okay, Octavia, I need you to go find my things. Just behind those trees there. Hurry.” She didn't even watch to see if she was heading in the right direction but immediately turned back to Monty. “Radio back to camp. You need to speak to my Mom and tell her to get set up for a chest drain, possibly a thoractomy.”

Back to Jasper.

C: not too clammy, pulse fast but good enough pressure to feel at the wrist. Bleeding? Two inch head lac to the right temple. She cut off a strip off his shirt, folding it into a square and pressed it against the wound.

D: she pulled back his eyelids with one hand, looking at his even pupils. Good sign. She called his name and then rubbed firmly on his sternum when there was no response. He groaned and tried to push her away. Another good sign. She dug her nails in hard to the skin just above his boots. Both legs moved. _Well thank fuck for that._

She vaguely heard Monty finish the radio call and rather then think about who he might have spoken to she started giving orders. “Here, take over from me.” She showed him how to press against the head wound firmly to try and stem the bleeding. _It might have been Jackson_ , she thought, _or Harper_. _Anyway, he probably didn't even mention me_. Jasper groaned again, stopping her train of thought and giving her an excuse not to look Monty in the eye.

E: she ran both hands over his arms, his legs, pressed on his abdomen. No other signs of trauma.

“What's wrong with him?”

“He's broken some ribs on the side here,” she pointed. “Most likely he's got a tension pneumothorax. Sorry, erm.. The broken bone has punctured his lung and created a one way valve, meaning air can go in but not come out. Right now that air is building up between his ribcage and his lung, and if we don't find a way to relieve the pressure..”

“If we don't find a way to relieve the pressure what?”

“He’ll die.”

Finally she allowed herself a look, expecting fear and panic. But she forgot, this was Monty. What else would he say apart from, “so how do we save him then?”

Right on cue Octavia burst through the tree line with a bag on her back, flinging it onto the ground when she reached them. Clarke took off her jacket and started emptying her equipment onto it. “Don’t suppose there's any of that moonshine left?” Monty handed her his flask, and she poured some over her spare knife, the marginally less rusty one, and handed it to Octavia to hold whilst she carried on rummaging for something. Her hands landed on the straw and she pulled it out, sterilising it as best as she could. She could feel two pairs of eyes watching her every move, one hopeful, the other mostly sceptical.

_Focus, methodical. You practiced this a thousand (two) times on the Ark, you know what to do_. She used what little was left of the alcohol to wash her hands and Jasper’s skin. She felt down the ribs on his side, counting as she went, until she got to the right spot. “Knife,” she said, holding out her hand. “Ok, now don't let him move.”

She made a knick in the skin, trying to shut out his moans. _Don’t listen, just think. Visualise the layers. Skin, subcutaneous tissue, muscle._. pop. She felt the small give of the knife and immediately stilled her hand. She widened the cut, just enough to allow the straw to slide in next to the blade. The hiss of air that came next was quickly followed by the sound of Clarke starting to breathe again.

“We need to get him to my Mom.”

“I’ve got Helios?”

“Horseback will be too rough, that tube cannot move.”

She ignored the raised eyebrows directed her way at the recognition of the name. “We’ll make a stretcher and carry him.”

“You're coming with us?” Monty asked quietly.

It didn't even occur to Clarke that staying was an option. Not now, with her friend’s life in the balance. Not wanting to risk exposing the tremble in her voice she nodded her head, and they got to work. Together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much to anyone who's reading. Every kudos and comment and hit is like a virtual hug!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who's sticking with this, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. We're starting with Bellamy and I found this really hard to write so please let me know in the comments if you think this is something that works or if you'd prefer me to stick to Clarke's POV. Also what are people's thoughts on skipping back and forth between present and post Mount Weather? Happy to keep having bits and peaces fitted in? 
> 
> On twitter as @waydownwego so you can always drop me a line there if you want. 
> 
> Thank you again!

 

 

Bellamy (present day)

  
He stood at the front of the room, waiting. Lexa sat in a plain high backed chair, her hair down and face free from the usual war paint.

_She looks so young like this_ , he thought.

Nia was standing to the left, whispering to the Ice Prince, eyes flickering between Bellamy and the Commander. He ignored her, keeping his gaze locked on a spot just above them. He hoped they couldn't see the dark circles under his eyes, the slight hunch of his shoulders from lack of sleep, the rapid beat of the pulse at his neck, the only outward sign of his fear and panic.

_What the hell had she been thinking? How could she have been so stupid, so blind? She had no idea what they would do to her._

He knew that he was lying to himself, but rather that than accept the truth: that she wasn't blind at all, she knew exactly what they would do to her and she did it anyway. For him.

Once Clarke had taken his place as prisoner, he’d been released into Indra’s custody in Polis, O and Lincoln staying with him. The days had passed in a blur; argument after argument trying to undo the bargain Clarke had made, pleading with Lexa to take his life there and then; hours spent with heads buried in old books or talking to elders within the tribe, learning everything they could about the challenges that had come before - any last shred of information that might help them stop this madness, or at least give Clarke a fighting chance; days spent trying to figure out how the hell he’d been set up, where that bullet had come from, Raven and Sinclair doing.. Well, whatever it is they did. Something to do with rifling and barrels and shooting bullets into meat.

And when all of that had failed, when there was nothing more he could to help her and he felt the worry turn into panic turn into despair that threatened to tear him apart, he stood outside the doors to the Tower, begging to see her. None if it had helped. They were still here, Clarke was still a prisoner and the Certamen was starting tomorrow.

_One_.

That was the number of people who had survived before.

That was why it hadn't been done for decades, why no one would volunteer for this.

It was suicide.  
  
“Bell..”

He was distracted from his thoughts by Octavia calling his name. Silence fell across the room like a wave. The scraping of chairs across the floor paused, the beer tankards stopped banging together one by one, the noise of the crowd slowly started to die down, decibel by decibel. Then, as one, they stood.

He turned to look at the doors behind him. And just like that, after weeks of.. of.. of _this_ , it was like he could finally fucking breathe again.

_When did that happen? When did I stop being me without her? When did I start needing her, craving her?_

_When she told me that I wasn't a murderer, that she needed me, that she couldn't lose me too?_

_When she left?_

_When she came back?_

_When she gave me that God damned picture?_

He blinked slowly, trying to regain control. Out of nowhere a woman started to sing, her voice deep and strong and soulful. He looked up and saw Clarke walking towards him. His eyes couldn't keep still, roaming over her face and body. _She’s ok_. A step. _She's not hurt_. More steps. _She’s so beautiful_. Another step. _Oh God, just a few more steps and I’ll be abl_ e _to touch her, smell_ _her_. She took a step. He opened his hand and..

  
*****

  
Clarke

  
She went into that room having no idea what to expect. She didn't know he was going to be there, looking at her like that. She hadn't had time to prepare herself, to try and at least pretend she had a shred of control over her feelings. And that music.. The melody swam around her, coursing through her veins, sinking into her bones, making her marrow ache with grief. Now she had to clasp her hands together to stop them from shaking and grit her teeth to stop herself from calling his name. She walked down the room, knowing everyone was looking at her, hating that she couldn't have a moment alone with him. _Just_ _one_ , _is that too much to ask for?_

It took longer than it should have for her to realise her friends were there. Jasper and Monty and Raven, Octavia and Lincoln. Kane.

Her Mom. _Mom_.

She tried so hard to smile, to let them know she was ok. The sadness in their eyes told her she was way off the mark. Before she could reach Bellamy her Mom pushed past the guards and embraced her fiercely.

“Are you alright?”

Clarke nodded, not able to stop the tears from falling now. “I’m so sorry. I.. I just.. I have to do this.”

Abby held her tighter and whispered the words she desperately needed to hear. “I know. I know sweetheart. I am so proud of you. Your father would be too. You Clarke, you're one of the good guys.”

The moment was interrupted by Lexa, rising to her feet. Her Mom gently wiped the tears from her face and together they walked to the front of the room. She looked at Bellamy. They were standing right next to each other but it felt like an ocean lay between them. Still, it was so easy to read him.

_How could you do this? How could you think I'd be okay with this?!_

Blink.

_You can’t die. Not for me._

Blink.

_I'm not worth it._

She hoped he could read her just as easily.

_I was thinking that there was no other choice. That this was the only way I could save you._

Blink.

_I need you_.

Blink.

_I can’t live without you. I’ve tried_.

Blink. Blink.

_You’re worth it Bellamy Blake. You're worth it to me._

“Clarke. You have chosen to fight for the life of Belomi kom Skaikru, to pay his debt to Azgeda. As Commander, I once again offer your people the chance to join us as the thirteenth clan. It is my hope that once the Certamen is over, we can once more join together. Not against the Mountain Men, or to fight a war, but to beunited in peace.”

She paused.

“No matter the outcome.”

Clarke felt her Mom’s grip tighten on her hand, and the prickle on her neck telling her Bellamy was watching her. She thought back to all the fighting and arguing and pain and bitterness she’d once felt. Suddenly, facing death, none of that mattered. Everything was so clear now. Jasper was right, they had to break the cycle.

Peace. That was the goal.

Even if she might never get the chance to see it.

She let go of her Mom’s hand and took a deep breath. She stepped forward, looking Lexa squarely in the eye.

“It would be our honour. Heda.” Feeling everyone's eyes on her, she slowly bowed her head. And bent the knee.

  
*****

  
No sooner had she set eyes on Bellamy he was taken away to join the rest of the Sky People whilst she was dragged around from table to table, forced to sit and eat and drink with the people who were betting against her. She could hear their whispers, their taunts, their mockery.

_Look at her, the silly little girl who thinks she can save her beloved._

She stole glances at her family when she could. She caught glimpses of Kane offering her Mom small gestures of comfort. She was glad; at least she'd have him.

_She's so skinny, she won’t even last five minutes._

Echo joined them briefly, sharing easy smiles with Bellamy, the two of them sharing a bond from under the Mountain that she would never understand. Even now when he was accused of killing one of her people, their friendship remained. There was no reason for Clarke to feel jealous. And she didn't. She was just choosing to look away. Far far away.

_Murderer. Commander of Death. Witch._

“Looking beautiful Wanheda,” Roan said, as he slid into the seat next to her.

“Don't call me that.”

“So, the Princess has come to save the Prince.”

She stayed silent, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

“You can’t win this, no matter how good you are,” he said quietly, seriously. “She won’t allow it.”

“Who? Lexa?” she said, genuinely puzzled.

He shook his head. Before he could say anything else Echo came and sat on his other side, reaching over to fill her cup. An obvious silence fell across the table.

“Please, don't stop on my account,” she muttered sarcastically.

Roan still didn't say anything.

“How’re you doing Clarke? You good?”

She nodded tersely.

“Stay focused, don't let anyone put you off. You’re smart, that'll help. But you’re small too, don't go for the obvious win. Strategise, hide if you have to.”

Roan looked at her sceptically.

“Why are you helping me?”

Echo opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn't come.

“It’s no secret where my loyalties lie,” she finally said. “I swore fealty to my Queen and that will never change. But Bellamy saved my life. He didn't have to do that. I.. I owe him.”

She looked over to where Bellamy sat, eyes down, the muscle in his jaw working overtime as he swirled the drink around his cup. Images flashed before her; the ground falling away from her as she looked up into the face of someone she didn't yet know or trust as he held her by the wrist, Dax lying dead on the floor in the woods, Anya reeling back as she was hit by a bullet on the bridge.

_Bellamy cleaning dried blood from her knuckles, ignoring the way her hands shook, his deep voice slowly calming her racing heart as he told her stories of the stars and the Gods.  
_

“Yeah, you and me both,” she said quietly.

  
*****

  
The night passed by too quickly. The next time she saw Roan he was otherwise engaged, his hand not so discretely under the skirt of some young blonde, the conversation they'd had earlier long forgotten. Clarke looked around and saw the festivities were winding down. The tables that had been piled high with decadent food and animal heads and wine were now half empty, with only bones and semi-conscious drunken men and women strewn across them. She hadn't realised how late it had gotten, so focused on speaking to the leaders of the clans, hoping that there would be some message for her hidden in their platitudes and stories, something that would help.

She looked over to the Skaikru table.

They were gone.

Her breathing faltered for a moment, jerky and uneven.

_I didn't even get to say goodbye._

She had to leave. She had to get out of there now. No one even noticed as she pushed through the doors and out into the dark corridor. It was so quiet out there. She looked up and down the empty space.

_No guards._

For the briefest of moments she wondered what would happen if she tried to leave. Would she even know her way out, how long it would take for someone to notice she’d gone? A minute? Five? What if by some miracle she did make it, what would happen to the rest of her people? Would she make it back to Bellamy in time? She stood against the wall, the cold stone against her bare back grounding her.

_Stop it. You did this Clarke, no one else. This was your choice. Now grow the fuck up and take it like a woman._

She took a step forwards towards the window. If she looked hard enough she thought she might see Arkadia, might see the smoke rising from the bonfires in the courtyard, might hear the laughter of her friends, voices soft with moonshine. She strained her eyes and she imagined she could see their spot on the Eastern border, the grass worn into the shapes of two bodies, the metal of the ship around them forever etched with pain and smiles and longing from night after night of whispered confessions. She wondered if that were true, if she really had left her mark on this Earth. If in a year from now, two years, a decade, anyone would remember who she once was.

Out of the darkness a hand curled around her mouth, another pinning her hands behind her back.

“Don't scream. Follow me.”

  
*****

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's been having a good week and enjoying all the BTS pics from season 6 so far... 
> 
> Here goes another chapter..
> 
> I shamelessly stole a line from Buffy in this one, mainly cos its one of my favourite TV quotes and seemed to fit in so nicely here. 
> 
> Lyrics from Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift..

 

 

_Arkardia 37 days after Mount Weather_

  
Clarke stretched her neck from side to side, feeling the ache in her back and shoulders. She’d forgotten what being in surgery felt like, arms held for hours in awkward positions, holding retractors and suction catheters, watching her Mom save a life. But it was just like riding a bike.

 _Strange,_ she thought _, why would that be something any of us even say anymore. I’ve never ridden a bike in my life. When was the last time any of us owned a bike, let alone rode one? Why am I even having this ridiculous conversation with myself?_

She knew why. Once she walked out that door, there would questions. She’d have to talk. Out loud. To people. People she’d hurt and let down and abandoned.

When they’d made it to camp with Jasper, their skin slick with sweat and rain, she’d wanted to run. Wanted to lay him down and bolt through the trees. It would’ve been easy, just a few hundred yards to blissful anonymity. But the doors had opened and she saw her Mom waiting for them. She’d yelled at her legs to move but they were stuck to the ground, not listening to a word she said. As Abby rushed over to them, she’d braced herself for the onslaught, for the anger. Her Mom had taken a deep breath, lips pressed tightly together, eyes blinking back tears, the look of utter relief barely hidden. And then it was business as usual. She’d looked over Jasper with such calm authority that Clarke and Monty, and even Octavia, had felt like it might be okay.

“Jackson’s tied up in another surgery.” Abby had said, looking up hesitantly, hopefully. “Clarke?”

And with that one word, she knew she would stay.

The sound of voices outside stopped her mind drifting any further down the rabbit hole she was in. She pulled her hair loose from it’s tie letting some of it hang over her face and straightened her blood stained shirt. She’d lost weight over the weeks, not caring enough to eat, and now her pants hung low on her hips. She tried to pull them up, cover her skin, shield herself. _You have to speak to them at some point, you owe them that. Might as well be now._

As she walked into the bay where Jasper had been moved after surgery she heard their hushed conversation.

“We don't even know if she's planning on sticking around. How long before she decides she's had enough again?” _Oh God, Raven._

“You guys, come on. She saved Jasper’s life. She didn't have to do that. We don't know what happened, why she left. But we can’t stay mad at her forever, she's one of us,” Monty pleaded.

“She is not one of us,” Octavia spat. “She stopped being one of us when she was willing to let a bomb drop on me and everyone else at Ton DC to get her own way. When she forced you to help her kill everyone in Mount Weather because the shitty deal she made fell through. When she didn't even have the decency to stick around and clean up her own mess!”

Clarke chose that particular moment to lose what little grace she had left and bump into the drugs trolley, bottles clinking together and giving her hiding place away. Three heads turned in her direction and she felt the weight of the moment closing in on her. So she did what she always did when things got tough, take the emotion out of the situation, concentrate on the facts.

“He’s gonna be ok,” she said, moving out from the shadows and looking at Jasper. “A few broken ribs and a collapsed lung, but the chest tube should be able to come out in a few days.”

Silent staring faces.

“He, erm, he’s probably got a concussion but there doesn't seem to be any signs of a bleed,” she explained, fingers starting to worry the sleeve of her shirt. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on him though. But he should be ok.”

Still nothing.

Not even Monty knew what to say although she could see he was trying, the blink and you’ll miss it smile giving her a little comfort. She looked down at her feet, tugging on a thread she’d pulled loose from her top, twisting it around her finger. She kept opening her mouth, wanting to say something, to explain why she’d left. To tell them she was sorry. But her mind was a blank space of nothingness. Nothing except for the image of Jasper holding Maya's ruined body.

Silence. Hard and cold.

She bit her lower lip in an effort to stop her mouth hanging uselessly open, rolling her teeth over it until she drew blood, the sharp metallic taste almost enough to stop her from falling over the edge, into the abyss. She didn't even notice when he arrived, didn't hear the fast click of his boots on the metal floor as he ran in or the collective breath the others took. Nothing, until she heard his voice.

“What the hell happened?! I got back from the hunt and Miller said that Jasper was hurt. Monty, you ok? What happ..” He stopped, words hitting a wall as he noticed her.

Nobody said anything, their eyes fixed on the two people who had once led them, fed them, healed them. Together.

She saw Bellamy’s throat move as he swallowed. Once. Twice, eyes closing.

 _He’s not going to say anything,_ she thought helplessly _. He's going to stand there and not say a word until I leave._

_Oh God, he wants me to leave._

She looked down, sucking on her lip to stop the blood from dripping, trying to remember how to breathe.

_I never should have come back._

_I should have stayed away._

_I should’ve.._

She was too far gone, the panic rising through her, blocking her from reality, so she didn't see. Didn't see the way he looked at her. Like he’d just stumbled across his favourite book that he'd lost and thought was long gone, like she was the dry land he'd been searching for after weeks of drowning, like the best friend he thought he might never see again when he needed her most, when he was being torn apart by pain.

She didn't see it, but they did. They saw the way he walked to her, slowly, like she might be a figment of his imagination that could disappear at any moment. They saw the way his hand shook ever so slightly as he reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes.

“Hey Princess,” he half said, half breathed. But she heard that, she saw his smile, _his smile_ , and she felt his touch.

And she was home.

  
*****

  
Polis (present day)

  
Clarke tried to explain, that she wasn't running, that she just needed a moment, that she was trying to find her way back to her cell. Lexa ignored her, not saying a word until they stopped outside a room in another part of the Tower.

“You've got five minutes.”

“Please, listen to me. I promise, I wasn't breaking any rules. I swear, I..” she pleaded.

“Clarke, stop. We don't have much time. Titus will be coming for you soon. If you want to say goodbye, this is it.”

“What?”

Lexa opened the doors for her, and she slowly made her way inside praying that she understood what she was being offered.

The room was dark with just a few lit candles in the corner and the moonlight beaming through the open window, but she’d recognise these people anywhere. Her shoulders sagged with relief and she turned to look at Lexa. “Thank you,” she breathed, voice brimming with emotion. It was strange to think that she had once hated her, blamed her for everything. She wished things could have been different for them. In another life they could have been friends.

As the doors quietly closed she looked back into the room, only to be swept up by Jasper and Monty, with Raven and Octavia not far behind. It felt like she hadn't seen them in forever. She had so much she wanted to say, things she needed them to know if this was going to be the last time she saw them.

_Jasper, it’s going to be ok. You’ll find love again. It won’t be the same as her, and you won’t want it to be. One day you’ll be able to remember her and smile and the ache in your chest will be a little smaller. Please don’t give up hope._

_Don’t you ever change Monty Green. This world is a better place for having you in it. You are smart and kind and special, never lose that. But for the love of God please make a move on Harper. She’s hot and she wants you._

_Raven I meant what I said, I’d pick you first. Always. I hate how much pain you’re in, I wish I could take it away. But pain doesn’t make you weak, it doesn't define who you are. You are powerful and strong and you deserve everything this Earth has to offer. Be well, be happy._

_Octavia. God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this. I hope you know why I did it. Why it couldn't be you. He would never have let that happen. You know that, right? You know I’ll do whatever, whatever it takes to save him._

_I love you all. But you have to take care of each other now, you have to be strong. The hardest thing in this world, is to live in it. Be brave, live._

_For me_.

But she didn't say any if it. She just closed her eyes and breathed them in, felt their arms around her, listened to their whispered memories and goodbyes. They eventually pulled away, all of them wiping tears from their faces. Octavia reached back in though, hugging her like she did everything else, without thinking and with all she had.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Please don't die, okay? You’re one of us,” she stopped, unable to carry on through the sobs. Until, softer than the torn battle gear she wore should allow, “please don’t let them take him away from me.” Clarke shushed her quietly, stroking her hair and whispering over and over that it would be ok. She hoped one of the last things she said to her wouldn't be a lie.

Lincoln joined them after a moment, laying his hand gently on Octavia’s back until she finally let go. Then he surprised them all by hugging Clarke himself. _Wow, who’d have thought it. Lincoln’s a hugger. Wonders never cease_.. “Good luck,” he said gruffly.

“We’ll keep looking, we’ll find a way to prove he didn't do it. You just have to stay alive, got it?” Raven whispered.

Kane joined the group of delinquents, his hand resting on Clarke’s arm with a squeeze, her Mom not far behind. “Here,” she said, handing her a small pouch. “It’s not much, just a few antibiotics, painkillers, some gauze..” Her voice tailed off, not able to carry on.

“Two minutes,” called Lexa from outside the door.

Bellamy finally spoke, voice a little unsteady. “Can you guys give us a minute?”

Not even her Mom could say no to that. They all slowly walked past her, reaching out for one last hug, touch, kiss. She turned away from Bellamy, watching them as they left the room. The doors closed and the room fell silent. Apart from her heart, pounding so hard in her chest it was like a drum beat echoing through her ears.

_Two minutes. Two lousy fucking minutes. It’s not enough time._

But it never would be. Two minutes, two hours, two days. Two decades. She could have a lifetime of minutes with him and it still wouldn't be enough.

She closed her eyes and turned to him, the words she was about to say lost as he strode across the room and pulled her into his chest. He engulfed her, his arms lifting her off the ground, fingers gripping her tightly, trying to draw her in until every last part of her body was touching him. But still he needed more. His hands roamed over her back, burning her skin with his touch. They moved to her head, tangling themselves up in her hair, his face buried in her neck, trying to breathe her in. He dropped his hands to her hips, pulling her closer and closer against him, making her whole body throb as she felt his breath against her.

She could feel his body tense against her, his breathing slowing as he tried to gain control of himself. She leaned back and looked at him, the guilt and pain so tangible it was like they were her’s, like they came from her own body.

“Bellamy. I..” but the feel of his fingers on her lips stopped her from saying what she wanted to. What she’d been feeling for weeks now, what she knew in her heart and soul and with every fibre of her being. She was in love with Bellamy Blake. Crazy heart-stopping-life-affirming-go-to-war-with-a-thousand-scary-Grounders-to-save-you kind of love.

“Don't,” he said hoarsely. “Anything you say to me now is going to sound like goodbye.

“But what if it is? What if this is goodbye?” she said, her lower lip trembling, closing her eyes as his fingers brushed over it.

“No. I can’t accept that.” He moved his hands to the sides of her face, so warm and big and _Bellamy_. She reached up and circled her own hands around his wrists.

“Hey, open your eyes. Come on, look at me.”

_How could she deny him?_

“I believe in you. You hear me. I _believe_ in you. We will meet again.”

His thumbs moved back and forth on her cheeks, and she tightened her grip on his wrists as she ran her eyes across his face, trying desperately to memorise every freckle, every curl, the angle of the scar above his lip that she never had the chance to ask him about.

“That’s almost it guys,” Monty called from outside the door.

For the first time she could see the fear in his eyes, feel it in the way he touched her. She rose onto her tiptoes and this time she was the one to pull him close as she hummed softly in his ear. His song, their song.

_Don’t you dare look out your window,_

_Darling everything's on fire._

_The war outside our door keeps raging on._

_Hold on to this lullaby, even when music’s gone._

_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down._

_You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound._

He pulled back and looked at her, really looked at her. She knew it was coming, she hoped it was coming, she needed it to come. But it still took her by surprise when she felt it; the bruising feel of his lips against hers; the taste of his tears as he opened his mouth and moved his tongue against hers, strong and rough; the low noise he made in his throat as she leaned desperately into him, fingers running through his hair; the pulsing ache she felt between her legs, their hips pressed tightly together - as they kissed for the first time.

Like it was the last time.

Like it was the end of their world.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that this is my first leap into writing fic (or anything creative ever) I am absolutely blown away that this has over a 100 kudos. I'm sure that's nothing to a lot of people but to me it is absolutely incredible and I just wanted to say a massive massive thank you to everyone that's reading or liking or commenting. Thank you thank you thank you! Any requests or things you'd like to see happen (or not happen) please let me know x

 

 

 

_Arkadia_

She’d thought the hard bit was over.

Hadn't she done enough? Hadn't she moved her legs against their will and dragged her body through the woods until she’d crossed over that threshold? Hadn't she stood next to her Mom for hours on end working over Jasper’s unmoving body, feeling the weight of countless unasked questions in every breath she took? Hadn't she swallowed her fear and gone to her friends ( _friends?_ ) and exchanged the awkward barely there embraces?

Apparently those were the easy bits.

The hard bit was wandering aimlessly around the camp, trying to find an empty room to hide in, to curl up and breathe, a room that didn't reek of unwanted memories of the Ark or people that looked at her with fear or mistrust in their eyes. The hard bit was making her way to breakfast with the whispers of everyone crawling over her skin. The hard bit was finding food and then realising there was not a single place where she could eat, not a single place where she belonged; not by “Chancellor Griffin” and the rest of the Council, not by a Bellamy who couldn't look her in the eye, a Bellamy who was sat by a beautiful girl ( _woman_ ) with waves in her hair that perfectly mirrored his own, not by Monty and Octavia, who put her feet up on the only empty chair around as soon as she spotted Clarke, not by Raven who spent most of her day holed up in engineering avoiding her. The hard bit was trying to convince herself that she wasn't invisible, that she was really here, that she was alive.

The hard bit was waking up to find the familiar so terrifyingly unfamiliar.

  
*****

  
Days passed like this. She signed on for laundry duty, ignoring her Mom’s pleas to help in the clinic. Whilst she was in her office she spied the guard’s schedule on her desk and memorised Bellamy’s off duty, making sure to stay clear of the perimeter when he was working, the mess hall when he wasn't. She ate only when she needed something to stop herself from passing out, even then sneaking into the kitchens at the quietest times, palms sweaty at the thought of getting caught. She slipped into the medbay to check on Jasper late at night, late enough that any normal, whole, undamaged person would surely be asleep.

She avoided everyone.

In her defence, it wasn't like any of them were banging down the door looking for her either.

Just once she thought she might have recognised the sound of his boots outside her room. Steady and unwavering, then slower, slower, silent. Surely she imagined the the sound of his breath catching in his throat as he stood with his hand raised to knock on her door.

Maybe she dreamt it.

Either way, she was alone.

  
*****

  
Raven was the first to break.

She found Clarke in the laundry room, wringing out the last of the sodden clothes for the day, beads of sweat dripping down her neck, the jut of her collarbones even more pronounced than they had been just a week ago.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen..” she drawled, looking around the dank room and shaking her head.

Clarke looked up, blinking away her surprise, but didn't say anything.

“Enough with the self flagellation already Griffin, let’s get a drink.”

She immediately looked away, busying herself with her work, the cogs in her mind racing to try and think of something else that had to be done before she could leave for the day.

Raven limped over to her, prying the clothes out of her hands and setting them aside.

Clarke slowly lifted her head.

“I wasn't asking.”

They both had battle scars, some visible, some.. not. They had both loved and lost and made decisions that had them questioning who they were. And yet here Raven was, walking and talking and smiling and offering. Offering her a chance.

Clarke’s shoulders dropped and she smiled. It might not have been enough to show teeth, it might not have even reached her eyes, but it was a smile. The first one since _he opened that door under the Mountain, Octavia running to him, his arms holding tight around her waist, but his eyes on Clarke, always on her. Her chest rose heavily with each breath as she drank him in. He was here. He was ok. He was alive. Her lips curled up infinitesimally in utter relief as he walked towards her.._

  
*****

  
She held her arms crossed over her chest, head tilted down as she walked next to Raven until they reached the group.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in,” Jasper slurred.

The carefree conversation stopped, everyone stared, the crackling of the bonfire between them the only sound.

“Hi, I’m Gina,” the impossibly beautiful curly haired girl eventually said, standing up, hand reaching out for Clarke’s. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s good to finally put a face to the name.”

Clarke was so grateful for the easy way that she reached for her, she almost forgot to be nervous.

“Hey,” she said, cheeks feeling warm with the flush of her embarrassment as they all shuffled awkwardly to make a space for her. Still Bellamy would look at her. _Invisible_.

She sipped from her cup as the chatter slowly started back up, her mind reciting drugs in alphabetical order from A to Z and back until her she could breathe again, a game she used to play with her Mom when she couldn't sleep. She got to R for the third time when she saw Jasper trip over nothing, Lincoln catching him before he could hit the ground.

“Hey man, maybe we should head back for the night,” Monty said, pulling on his arm slightly.

“No no no no no, the night is yet young my friend,” he said melodramatically, reaching for the jug of moonshine on the ground and almost falling again.

Clarke got up and moved the drink out of his reach. “Maybe you should take it easy,” she said quietly. “You’re body’s still healing.”

Jasper laughed, loud and forced and cold, so cold goosebumps broke out over her skin. _Oh God, what was she thinking?_

“D’ya hear that guys, she’s back,” he shouted, swinging his arms out and spinning round to look at their friends, what was left of his drink spilling from his cup. “All bow down to the mighty Princess. You say jump and we say how high, right?”

She shook her head slightly. “It’s not.. I’m not..” She clenched and unclenched her jaw, looking down, trying to avoid his stare. “You just need to be careful, that's all. You could get hurt.”

“Newsflash Clarke, I’m already hurt. We’re all hurt.”

She flinched at his words, knowing he was speaking the truth, the truth she’d been trying to avoid since she’d been back. Jasper started stumbling towards her, the anger rising like static around the two of them as he pushed and pushed.

“What did you think would happen, huh? That you could just walk back in here and pretend that nothing had changed, that we could all just be one big fucking happy family again? Huh?!”

Bellamy rose slowly from his seat. “Jasper,” he said, the warning tone clear.

Still he pushed.

“Well guess what, you’re not in charge anymore. And that’s a good thing. People die when you’re in charge.”

“Jasper, enough!” Bellamy strode over to them, watching the scene unfold, knowing how quickly it could spiral out of control. Clarke looked at him and shook her head, holding her hand out to stop him, the message painfully obvious; he needs this.

And I deserve it.

Still, she couldn't stop her chest from heaving as she tried to breathe, couldn't stop the tears from falling as he stalked around her in circles, the predator going in for the kill.

“Atom.

Charlotte.

Finn.

_Maya_..”

He broke off, unable to carry on for a moment.

“Its always been you, hasn't it?” He said, the words bitter and scathing. “You've always been the one to decide. Who lives, who dies.”

Bellamy moved until he stood between them, his whole body in front of Clarke, his jaw locked tight and fists clenched.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, “she has been the one to decide, hasn't she?” his every word just as bitter as Jasper’s.

“Like when you got a spear through your chest the day we landed here, and everybody else thought you were as good as gone, she was the one to decide. She decided to come for you when no one else would.”

They were both breathing hard now, both angry and ready to blow, the pin in their grenades just a hair’s breadth from dropping.

“Or when we got you back to camp reeking of death and I wanted to put you out of your misery, when I told her to give up on you, she was the one to decide. She decided to fight for you.”

A beat.

Then softly, quietly, “Yeah, you’re right. She decides. But what happened to Maya, to the rest of the Mountain Men, that's not on her. **We** made that decision,” he said, moving back now to stand by her, intertwining their fingers as he stood by her side. “We made that decision together.”

Monty, who’d been watching from the side lines, taking in all the hurt and pain and anger, came up quietly beside them both taking Clarke's other hand between his. “We all played our part. And I’d do it again if I had to, to save you Jasper.”

Right there, in that moment, with her friends (yes, friends) by her side, she remembered what this had all been for. She knew it had all been worth it, that she would always do whatever it took to protect them. That she would bear this pain a thousand times over if she had to. But she didn't have to, not anymore.

She wasn't alone.

“I know you’re hurting,” Monty carried on, moving to Jasper, “but this has to stop. Hurting me, hurting yourself, getting through every day blinded by alcohol, none of this is going to bring her back. Please.. I miss you.”

She could see the tiniest bit of clarity emerging from behind the alcohol fuelled glaze in Jasper’s eyes, just the tiniest glimpse of the boy he once was. But then it was gone.

He laughed mirthlessly. “Of course you’d take her side,” he nodded at Bellamy. “The loyal Knight by his Queen’s side,” he said. His eyes moved to Monty, “But you.. I thought we were brothers. I guess I should’ve known better when you murdered my girlfriend.”

With that he threw the empty cup at Monty’s feet and walked away.

  
*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everyone for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

 

  
_Arkadia_

  
She lay on top of the thin blanket covering her cot, staring at the same patch of damp on the ceiling that she’d been looking at night after night when sleep failed to come. Sometimes she thought she could see shapes in it - a bird, one of the old American States (Texas maybe?), a gun. Tonight it looked like nothing more than what it was; a reminder of something that had broken, ruining what would otherwise be a perfect blank space.

She thought back to earlier that night. No one had known what to say after Jasper left, awkwardly muttering their goodbyes before escaping. And however warm her welcome had been from Gina, Clarke saw how her eyes had locked on her hand in Bellamy’s, the way he’d looked at her despite everything. They wouldn't be friends.

Still, it had felt unexpectedly familiar - how quickly Bellamy had jumped to her defence. They hadn't spoken more than a couple of words in weeks, he’d been avoiding her like the plague since she’d come back, and yet.. When she needed him he’d been there, standing by her side, willing to fight with his friend. _For her._

Maybe tonight it wasn't a stain. Maybe it was a heart. Not the unrealistic cartoon picture of a beautiful symmetrical perfect heart, but a real-life messy beating heart, the great vessels bursting from the top, the curve of the left ventricle dripping down towards her.

But.. He’d left her there by the fire. Walked away when Gina had stood awkwardly and said goodnight, slinging his arm low around her hips in a casual, easy I-do-this-everyday-without-thinking kinda way.

She sighed.

No, it was just a mark on her ceiling from a burst water pipe that no one had cared enough to fix.

A firm knock on the door startled her.

Jasper coming for round 2? Octavia, ready to beat her round the head with the burning anger she saw just simmering below the surface? Maybe it would be her Mom, trying to get her to work in the clinic again..

What would be the point in answering? Her well was empty. There was nothing left for them.

Another knock.

“Clarke, I know you’re in there.”

The tapping of her heart against her ribs said maybe not, maybe there was a little left.

Bellamy was the last person she expected. She thought she wouldn't see him again for days, that they would just go back to carelessly ( _carefully_ ) avoiding each other. Besides, didn't he just take Gina home?

“You can't shut me out forever you know.”

She slowly made her way to the door, hand lifted to the handle hesitantly, her heart stuck in her throat making it difficult to swallow.

“I can hear you thinking from out here, just open the door.”

She saw him leaning against the frame, a tentative half smile on his face.

“I think it’s about time you and I got that drink.”

  
*****

  
They slowly made their way out, eyes adjusting to the night sky as they walked side by side, not touching, not talking. She looked down. His stride was so confident and familiar, and she felt herself subconsciously moving quicker to fall into his rhythm. Left, right, left, right. Don’t forget to breathe.

She was so lost in her own thoughts, trying desperately to think of something to say, that she didn't even notice he wasn't with her anymore. She stopped a few yards ahead of him and when she turned, he was reaching for a pack that was leaning against the ship, covered by leaves and tarp. He pulled out a blanket and laid it on the grass that was already starting to wear in places from where he’d obviously sat before. _With Gina_.. Her heart hurt just a little at that thought. Not out of jealousy, obviously not, they weren't like _that_. No, just the thought that she and Bellamy were were no longer a team. He had someone new to talk to and make plans with. And why shouldn't he? She left..

He sat on one side, leaving enough space for her to sit next to him. _Me and the big fat elephant in the room_.. She sat down with her knees bent up and into her chest, fingers back to playing with the hem of her sleeve. They both looked out at harsh metal perimeter fencing them in.

A minute passed.

Two.

Still neither of them spoke, the night silent but for the screaming jumble of words in her head.

Five minutes.

He sighed deeply and eventually pulled out a flask and worn paperback from his rucksack. He took a sip and then set it on the ground next to her, not even looking before he leaned back and started to read.

She sat there feeling so unsure in her own skin, not knowing what to say or what to do. Time passed. The thread of her shirt sleeve getting longer and longer as she twisted it around her finger.

She reached for the flask and sat back against the ship, not noticing the way his shoulders relaxed as she swallowed. Or the way he’d only just started to turn the pages, no longer merely staring at the words on the page.

“What are you reading?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

“The Iliad. I found it at..” his breath caught and he swallowed. “My Mom used to read it to me,” he replied, just as quietly.

After a beat he looked over at her and put his hand over hers, her fingers stilling at his touch.

“You’ll have no shirts left at this rate..”

She looked down and self consciously unwound the thread from her now dusky finger, picking up the flask again to give her hands something to do.

“What's it about?”

He grinned in an achingly familiar way. “Clarke Griffin hasn't read the Iliad? What do they even teach at Princess school anymore?”

She laughed so freely and real it took both of them by surprise.

_God it felt good to laugh._

But just as quickly as it came, it had gone.

_How dare she? Monsters don't get to smile and joke and breathe easy._

The weight on her chest crept back up, pulling her down, threatening to drown her like it had so many times before.

But this time she wasn't alone.

He saw it all; the pain in her eyes, the quickening of her breath, the way she bit the inside of her cheek as the smile died on her face. He saw it all, and he felt it. Her pain was his pain. And suddenly he knew. He knew exactly why she’d gone, why she’d banished herself, why she’d been avoiding him as much as he’d been avoiding her. The wreckage inside her calling to his own, the both of them savaged too many times by this world.

He sat back giving her room to breathe, not saying anything, knowing that was nothing he could say to make this better. He turned to the beginning of his book.

“Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures..”

His voice was low and husky. It stroked along her skin, calming her breath, slowing her pulse as it made it’s way through her blood. She closed her eyes and let the cadence of his voice lull her racing thoughts, wrapping her in warmth, until she was free of the fog.

He read on.

The night grew cold and his breath turned into clouds before his lips.

He read on.

The flask passed between them until it was empty, the burn of the moonshine doing little to fight off the cold.

He read on.

She moved imperceptibly closer to him with each page, her body seeking the warmth of his.

Still, he read on.

As the sky became light with the amber haze of sunrise her leg was pressed into his, her head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed as she listened to him softly speak.

He stopped.

They stayed like that for what could have been minutes or days.

“I was so angry at you for leaving,” he eventually said.

She lifted her head from his arm and looked up at him, the guilt seeping from her every pore.

“I don't wanna feel that way anymore,” he carried on, his voice breaking slightly as he looked at her.

She didn’t try to stop the tears from falling as he wrapped his arms around her, the feeling of his embrace like a wrecking ball to the carefully constructed wall she’d been building brick by brick since the day they floated her Father. They both heard the sound of the day starting around them; the chirping of the birds, the buzz of the generator springing to life, the changing of the guard.

But for that moment, it felt like just the two of them - two halves of a whole, readying to face this brave new world together, just as they were before.

  
*****

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
